For Everything There Is a Season
The curtain closed on baseball’s regular season Sunday. If my team will not be continuing to the postseason, there is always a tinge of sadness as the final out is recorded. Pitchers and catchers won’t report to Spring Training until February, and Opening Day is in early April.
I will miss the thrill of the pennant races, the tension of a close game in the late innings, and the excitement of a big rally. More than those, however, I will miss the rhythm of the game. There is something comforting about listening to the middle innings of a game in June. Or watching on television the first pitch on a Sunday afternoon in mid summer. Falling asleep to the sounds of the announcers wrapping up the postgame show with the out-of-town scoreboard.
Baseball evokes memories of my childhood, and I had a very good childhood. From March to October, baseball dominated my days (and nights). Every evening after dinner, my father and I would play catch in the backyard. I would ride my bike to the park on the corner for my Little League games. Soothing voices from the radio--occasionally punctuated by the roar of the crowd--would lull me to sleep. I spent every dime on baseball cards.
Baseball echoes the rhythm of life. The innings pass with the regularity of sun and moon. The players come and go as friends appear in and disappear from our lives. Some things seem eternal, such as the announcer who has been with the club for more than 50 years, or the bright blue seats and green grass of the stadium. We hope those will never disappear, but, like a parent or spouse, they may someday pass into memory.
Other sports are a diversion, something to enjoy for a few hours at a time. Baseball has its own sense of time. It is a continuum. One game runs into the next, one season into another. Baseball isn’t like life, it is life.
For those of you who have teams in the playoffs, I say first, bite me. Second, enjoy. In a few days I’ll be able to join you and appreciate the climax of the baseball year. For now, I’m going to sulk a little bit more while my boys clean out their lockers and go home.
I will miss the thrill of the pennant races, the tension of a close game in the late innings, and the excitement of a big rally. More than those, however, I will miss the rhythm of the game. There is something comforting about listening to the middle innings of a game in June. Or watching on television the first pitch on a Sunday afternoon in mid summer. Falling asleep to the sounds of the announcers wrapping up the postgame show with the out-of-town scoreboard.
Baseball evokes memories of my childhood, and I had a very good childhood. From March to October, baseball dominated my days (and nights). Every evening after dinner, my father and I would play catch in the backyard. I would ride my bike to the park on the corner for my Little League games. Soothing voices from the radio--occasionally punctuated by the roar of the crowd--would lull me to sleep. I spent every dime on baseball cards.
Baseball echoes the rhythm of life. The innings pass with the regularity of sun and moon. The players come and go as friends appear in and disappear from our lives. Some things seem eternal, such as the announcer who has been with the club for more than 50 years, or the bright blue seats and green grass of the stadium. We hope those will never disappear, but, like a parent or spouse, they may someday pass into memory.
Other sports are a diversion, something to enjoy for a few hours at a time. Baseball has its own sense of time. It is a continuum. One game runs into the next, one season into another. Baseball isn’t like life, it is life.
For those of you who have teams in the playoffs, I say first, bite me. Second, enjoy. In a few days I’ll be able to join you and appreciate the climax of the baseball year. For now, I’m going to sulk a little bit more while my boys clean out their lockers and go home.
Labels: baseball, I wasn't crying, the good stuff
posted by Lefty at 9:21 AM
8 Comments:
Nicely said. Enjoy the playoffs and wait until next year when the hope of a pennant is renewed.
Crying? There's no crying in baseball! LOL.
Hang in there, Lefty. Soon the crack of the bat and the smell of mitt oil will fill the air again.
In between, there's always the holidays.
have another beer. :)
You mean, baseball is STILL GOING ON??? Geezmabeez...how many freakin' games do those guys play???
:-)
You need some Monday Night Football, dude. Quick.
my team never made it out of last place. well, maybe for a moment.
so kudos to yours for actually being a contender.
g-man--I think I'll be able to enjoy the postseason. There is cause for optimism for next season.
jen mck--actually, there are the winter meetings! That's one of the best times for juicy trade rumors.
siz--the Queen of Good Advice
swf--to play baseball is to live; you stop playing, you die.
mel--that can make for a long season. We've all been there.
Nicely expressed. You almost made me want to watch. Almost. I enjoy it if I'm there. Not so much on the tele.
I really enjoy your posts.
It snowed here last week, so I'm having a hard time believing that some where in the world baseball is still being played. Are they wearing parkas?? Sorry for your sadness, I'm going to join Sizzle in saying, maybe have another beer to lessen the pain.
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